


Nostradamus

by deathoftheartist



Series: Fantastic Crossover Crack [1]
Category: Blue's Clues, Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathoftheartist/pseuds/deathoftheartist
Summary: The start of it all.An official prequel to "Steve's Clues" by my best friend, ShinerWrites.Read Steve's Clues here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964206
Series: Fantastic Crossover Crack [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037037





	Nostradamus

"You're dead."

A man awoke in a black void.  
He had no comprehension of anything going on around him.  
Except for the lone figure, standing before him.

Watching.

"Mr. John Watson. Welcome, welcome. My name is Sherlock Holmes."

"W-where am I? What..."

Sherlock chuckled to himself.

"You were hit by a bus. The driver was on some fresh snow, and I know better than anyone what coke does to your motor skills. You're here now, though. No need to worry."

John looked around in disbelief. 

"No- NO NEED TO WORRY? I'M FUCKING DEAD! DECEASED!! MY BODY IS IN A BLOODY MORGUE AND I'M IN SOME STRANGE DIMENSION OF DARKNESS WHICH I'M HALF-CONVINCED TO BE HELL WITH SOME PRETENTIOUS QUEER-LOOKING DETECTIVE THAT SEEMS LIKE HE JUST CAME OUT OF A SHITTY MOVIE FROM THE 1950S!!!"

Sherlock was entirely unfazed.

"Clever with your words as always, Watson. Fancy a drink?"

Sherlock poured a bottle of aged brandy into two skull glasses.

"Drink up~"

John sat down, and began reluctantly drinking. Maybe alcohol would sate his existential anxiety.

"Mr. Watson, I have a proposal for you, if you feel up for the task. You always were up to any new challenge that presented itself, weren't you?"

John calmly placed his glass on the sole table in the inky-black void of death.

"And what would that be?"

Sherlock took a knowing sip from his glass. He had dealt with people like this before. They always ask too many questions.

"I'm inviting you to come work with me, Mr. Watson. To track down the universe's finest, and save them from the ultimate doom awaiting us all."

"Y-you mean death?"

Sherlock sunk his head onto the table exasperatedly. Sometimes it's hard being the God of Death.

"NO, you clueless fucking buffoon! As you can CLEARLY see, death doesn't really mean much. This is worse. This is finality at its most pristine, unbridled lust for carnage."

He hesitated after saying that.

"I... apologize. That was harsh. This invitation is a cordial request to explore the very limits of the universe with me, and find the ones that can truly be saved from the Ultimate Doom. There is a plan at stake, and if you do not help, the operation will be compromised. This is not for my own sake, Mr. Watson. This is for the future of your own world."

John got up from his chair, brandy in hand. He had noticed a mirror behind him, and that seemed like the perfect cliché to mull things over.

As he stared into the depths of the mirror, he began to see. Colors, shapes, lights, abstractions. But then, he saw people. Faces. Conversations. Tits, oddly enough. Truth.

But he could only see a warped reflection of himself.

"John, if you are to accept this job, you will lose yourself. You will become a faceless agent of universal salvation. You must never stop working, never stop fighting, never stop finding new worlds. You will become truly selfless."

John stood at the edge of the void for a long time.

Finally, a single sound was heard.

A brandy glass had been dropped to the ground.

"I accept."

Sherlock got up and shook John's hand.

"Welcome to reality..."

"Partner."

As John looked back at the mirror one final time, he noticed he could no longer see himself in his reflection.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve woke up in his red armchair, confused as always. Where was he? Who was he? These were questions he repeatedly pondered every single day, but today was even stranger.


End file.
